


Candyholics Never Made Good Heroes Anyways

by GhostGarrison



Series: 'I Was Afraid...' Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Asexual Castiel, Asexual Character, Cosplay, Fluff, Halloween, Humor, M/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-22 11:57:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2506955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostGarrison/pseuds/GhostGarrison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a year later, junior year at Stanford University, and Sam—at Balthazar’s constant insistence—somehow manages to convince Castiel to go to his cousin’s Halloween party. However, he doesn’t expect his boyfriend to be so… <i>into</i> the idea of dressing up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Candyholics Never Made Good Heroes Anyways

It’s that time of year again, where the leaves are changing colors and piling up across the drying grass lawns of campus, everything either smells or tastes like Pumpkin Spice, every shop downtown has something cobwebbed and covered with plastic spiders, and—for some god forsaken reason—a majority of students have broken out their Uggs, fleeces, puffy vests, and jackets.

Having not been born in somewhere warm like California, Sam is always a little perplexed about how the people of the state begin reacting when the cooler months arrive. He could wear long sleeve shirts and jeans throughout the winter but there are still some people who wear full-on parkas when it’s still only fifty-five degrees outside. 

But at this point, halfway through the semester of his junior year of undergrad, Sam is used to it.

Sam walks through campus, weaving through hoards of students who look like they’re geared up for winter already, despite it only being the end of October and with autumn in full swing. Now that he’s no longer a underclassman, he is required to live off campus and his apartment building is pretty much the furthest away from his department’s buildings as it possibly could. 

Which he doesn’t really mind. Not that he didn’t like living in the dormitories with Brady two years running, but there’s something to be said about having your own place—a private space all to yourself where everything was in the perfect amount of disarray. He found a cheap apartment building about ten blocks away, one of the older buildings in the area. He could have found something slightly better and even cheaper further away, but the daily walk would have been tiresome.

After a long day of upper-level classes for six hours in a row, he’s about ready to collapse. But he’s got eight blocks left to go until he can crawl into bed for an hour and fifteen minutes of sweet sleep before hauling himself back onto his feet in order to leave for the night’s shift at Ellen’s restaurant.

And hell, he’s only taking four classes—which is the standard course load. Castiel is taking five this quarter and Sam has no idea how the man even survives. Well, he’s got some idea. Lots of nights reading and working until midnight and countless cups of plain, tasteless coffee. He’s seen it in action and it’s exactly that reason why Sam will never take more than four classes at a time. 

But he admires Castiel’s work ethic, taking courses during the summer terms to get ahead. Sam would have joined him since his scholarship covers any and all courses applicable to his undergraduate degree, no matter what quarter they’re offered in, but instead he took the summer off as usual in order to work full-time at the restaurant. The money is much better when you can work for longer periods of time and it helped him set up a bit more of a savings fund for the upcoming academic year.

After climbing the stairs outside his apartment, Sam greets his bed with much gusto, crawling into it still dressed, only kicking off his shoes by the door. His keys slip through his fingers and drop to the floor with a jingle. Just as his eyelids droop shut, Sam’s phone—still in his jeans pocket—vibrates, so he reaches to pull the damn thing out.

_[Balthazar: Halloween party on Saturday, 9:00PM. Bring Castiel.]_

_‘Oh yeah, that’ll go over well,’_ Sam thinks sarcastically, flipping his phone closed before placing it on the short thrifted dresser beside his bed. He closes his eyes again, determined to get almost an hour nap before work. His phone vibrates several times over the next hour with different variations of the same text, some that nearly sound like threats, asking Sam and Castiel to come to a party at the end of the week. It nearly drives him insane.

Sam ends up passing the message along to Castiel during his halfway break of his five hour shift, finally relenting to Balthazar’s constant badgering. Shouldn’t the man be texting his cousin instead? And not even bothering to ask Sam since Balthazar has never warmed up to him?

But it’s Balthazar’s last text that actually makes Sam press the send button.

_[Balthazar: Castiel would never say yes if I asked, so just get him to come, please.]_

Well… since he said ‘please.’ Sam never thought that word would come from Castiel’s cousin, verbally or through text. It seems that miracles do happen.

_[Sam: Balthazar says to come to his party on Saturday.]_

_[Cas: No.]_

_[Sam: Why not?]_

_[Cas: If you recall, I’m not the best person at parties.]_

_[Sam: And if you recall, we met at one. I think it’d be fun.]_

_‘And Balthazar would stop bothering me about it.’_ But he doesn’t send that to Cas. To be brutally honest, Sam isn’t entirely sure if Balthazar’s party will be fun, but it would be nice to get out of his apartment and do something social instead of their usual rather reclusive dates. Not that quiet, intimate settings while watching movies or seeing museums aren’t enjoyable, but there’s a small extroverted part of Sam that could use some exercising.

It’s worth a shot, and it’s not like it’s a complete stranger’s party. It’s Castiel’s cousin, who now resides in Gabriel’s old house now that Gabriel has graduated and left the area. Balthazar might be eccentric and theatrical, but he isn’t that insane.

_[Cas: Did he really send you a text too?]_

_[Sam: Is it that surprising?]_

_[Cas: No. No, it’s really not.]_

_[Cas: I’m very busy this quarter.]_

_[Sam: It’s only one Saturday. And it’s Halloween!]_

_[Sam: I don’t think I’ve ever been to a Halloween party. I didn’t celebrate Halloween much as a kid either.]_

_[Cas: Really?]_

_[Sam: Yeah, really.]_

_[Cas: Hm.]_

“Sam, honey,” Ellen says from the corner where she leans against the doorframe of the small office-type room that doubles as a break room for restaurant employees. “Time’s up. We could really use you back in the kitchen.”

Nodding, Sam stashes his phone safely back in his backpack under the desk and returns to work, thinking about his boyfriend’s strange non-answer. He didn’t say ‘yes’… but he also didn’t really say ‘no’ either.

Castiel greatly surprises Sam the next day when they spend the afternoon studying together in his apartment, not only announcing that he’s willing to go to Balthazar’s Halloween party but that they’d also require costumes in order to attend.

Sam’s mouth drops open a little at the proclamation. Castiel never struck him as the kind of guy to wear Halloween costumes past the pre-teen age.

“You want to dress up?” he asks from his place on the couch, purple mechanical pencil dropping from his grip to clack against the surface of the notebook in his lap. His mind immediately jumps into gear, giving him brief glimpses of his boyfriend in various costumes—a pirate? Batman? A Jedi Knight? Oh god, Castiel would make a handsome but _hysterical_ Disney prince.

“Of course, that’s what people do, isn’t it?” Castiel replies in a matter of fact tone, one hundred percent serious. “We’ll stick out if we don’t.”

Sam has to hand it to him, the man’s logic is perfectly sound. “Yeah, you’re right. Do you have any ideas of what you wanna be?”

Castiel nods before turning on his heels and scampering off into his bedroom while Sam waits patiently for him on the couch, listening to the sounds of Castiel rummaging around in what sounds like the small walk-in closet. He returns in under a minute, with something brown tucked under his arm.

A hat. A felted brown fedora-style hat that Sam vaguely recognizes from somewhere, but it’s only when Castiel puts it on that it instantly becomes apparent in Sam’s mind.

“It’s a collectible,” Castiel informs him proudly, pointing to his hat with an odd, out-of-character flourish. “From the _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ special DVD release.”

It’s an Indiana Jones hat. Sam’s lips curve up and he can’t even begin to suppress his light-hearted laughter. “You’re such a huge dork!”

Castiel folds his arms, narrowing his eyes at Sam from across the room. “You’re jealous of my hat.”

“Yeah-ahah, okay,” Sam relents, raising in his hands in mock surrender with a smile still gracing his lips as he gets the rest of the residual laughs out before becoming serious again. “Do you have the rest of the costume?”

“No,” Castiel answers, taking the hat off and running the brim delicately between his fingers like a treasured possession. “But, in theory, it shouldn’t be hard to find.”

 _‘Fair enough,’_ Sam thinks. In reality, Indiana Jones’ outfit is like, what? A white shirt, khaki cargo pants, and a jacket? Truthfully, Castiel could have picked something much more complicated, but at least the pieces will be easy to find.

“We could go thrifting on Friday,” Sam offers after a pause. “Or a Halloween store, if you’d like.”

Castiel nods. “Yes, that sounds good. Do you know what you’re going to go as?”

Sam thinks for a moment, tapping his pencil against his thigh before shrugging. “I don’t know, but I’m sure I’ll come up with something by Saturday night.”

Castiel puts the hat on the bookshelf next to the television, proudly on display in the empty space beside his collection of _Mad Men_ boxed sets and then returns to the couch beside Sam. He pulls a book into his lap before threading his fingers between Sam’s on the cushion between them, giving his hand a light squeeze before settling. Though Castiel spends the majority of his time watching films for various classes, it seems that there is a lot more reading as the class level gets higher and the material gets tougher and more in-depth.

For the rest of the afternoon, until Castiel has to leave for his evening class and Sam has to leave for work shortly thereafter, Sam thinks about his own possible Halloween costumes—completely distracted from the Election Law textbook that lies perched between his knees.

Are there any other recognizable characters from Indiana Jones that he could be? He’s not exactly super familiar with those movies, not having seen _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ since he was a kid, sitting next to Dean in front of a small television in a motel room in the middle of nowhere. He recalls an awesome leading lady—which is, to be frank, _so not happening_.

Perhaps he’ll look up the characters on Google later. But would Castiel even want them to match? Are they ‘that’ couple, showing up at a party in matchy-matchy costumes? Does it even matter?

Sam blinks down at his textbook, words coming back into focus as he actually tries to do the reading he’s been assigned for the next day. Coming up with a Halloween costume should never be this complicated.

As planned, Castiel picks Sam up just before eleven on Friday, rolling up to the street corner of Sam’s block in his white BMW. It’s a little chillier than Sam expected it to be—can’t the weatherman ever be right? Damn Californians—but his long-sleeve button-down keeps him warm enough. When he slides into the car’s passenger seat, Castiel leans over the console and brushing his lips against Sam’s cheek before returning his hands to the wheel of the car, shifting it into gear. It’s brief and fleeting but the fact that Castiel does it so casually and outside of closed doors makes Sam reel back with a blush burning high on his cheeks.

They’re waiting at the light of the intersection before Castiel speaks sheepishly, fingers gripping around the leather of the steering wheel as he pointedly stares towards the horizon. “I admit I do not know where any thrift stores in the area are.”

“Oh,” Sam says. It figures that a guy who lives in a fancy apartment on his family’s generous funds doesn’t need to shop at secondhand stores. But Sam, on the other hand, has practically furnished his apartment and filled his closet from bargain stores and thrift shops. 

“Well,” Sam says, licking his dry lips and thinking about which store is closest and in the direction they’re heading. “I know there’s a Goodwill about twelve blocks on El Camino, and there’s another one basically the same distance in the opposite direction. And a Savers up in North Fair Oaks, if you wanna go that far…”

“Sounds like we have a good start,” Castiel comments, giving him a slight smile as he turns onto I-82.

The light changes to green and the car rocks forwards, heading southeast and away from campus.

The first Goodwill they visit is all trussed up for the Halloween season, having undergone a complete organizational transformation since Sam had last been there in September in search for another pair of black pants for work. The racks are all rearranged, with the ‘Halloween Central’ section right in the front of the store.

There’s more Halloween gear than Sam honestly expected, not having gone thrifting during the month of October in the past two years, but they at least have quite a selection to pick through. Castiel is immediately drawn to the aisles of colorful, mostly glittery fabrics adorned in sequins, tulle, and feathers.

Sam huffs out a silent laugh through his nose, following his boyfriend through the store as they look through the various costumes set out by the store’s overworked employees. Castiel obviously has something in mind, searching through the racks for something specific.

He doesn’t know if he should offer to help Castiel with his search, so instead, Sam settles on looking through the costumes for ideas for himself—since that’s something that he probably should be doing anyways. He still doesn’t know what he wants to dress as for Balthazar’s party tomorrow, so he should probably start looking.

The problem with being over six feet tall is that barely anything fits him. It’s hard enough finding plain clothing that fit his long legs and arms and broad shoulders, but finding a costume? That has to be even harder.

It’s not like the store is short of costumes—oh god, definitely not. There’s a lot to choose from, even things that would possibly fit him. But he’s not really in the mood to be a pirate or ninja or anything as stereotypical for Halloween. Castiel is doing something classic but unique and in turn, so should he, right?

Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel moves from one rack to another, diligently searching for the pieces of his Indiana Jones costume. Sam looks across the store to where other customers are shopping, even some presumably Stanford students also looking through the Halloween racks. The holiday isn’t until Monday night, but no doubt most of the parties are happening on either Friday or Saturday night.

Sam continues to rummage through the racks, hanger by hanger, looking at each costume piece until he bumps up against another guy who quietly apologizes and wearily moves to the other side of the metal rack of clothing.

On the end of the long aisle that stretches nearly to the far wall of the store, there’s a few shelves on top of the racks that are piled high with miscellaneous costume pieces—mostly props, accessories, and hats. He sorts through them, pushing stuff to the side with his hands until they rest on something felt and gray. He tugs it out, brushing a few strands of loose blonde hair from a nearby wig off the brim.

“Look, I’m Professor Crowley,” Sam says, turning to Castiel while dropping the hat lightly on the crown of his head, the fake coarse gray hair settling around his shoulders. “‘You shall not pass!’”

Though he’s never actually taken a class with Crowley, Castiel cracks a grin before turning back to the rack of adult-sized costumes. “You still look like Sam but simply older.”

“What, you think I’ll look like Gandalf when I’m old?” Sam asks in mock offense.

“Well, there’s certainly no way of knowing now. You might look like Gandalf, you might look like Bilbo.”

“Well,” Sam begins, pulling the hat off his head and brushing a hand through his hair to straighten it before putting the hat back on the pile of accessories. “If I end up like either of them, I’ll easily live into my hundreds and still look pretty young.”

Castiel pauses in his searching, hands resting on the clear hangers of what looks like various colored vests as he squints into the distance with a frown. “... Touché.”

After a few more minutes of searching, Sam still hasn’t found anything that he feels like wearing and Castiel has already gone through the entirety of the Halloween racks and has moved into the normal men’s clothing section.

Sam follows him there too, thinking that maybe he won’t find anything at this store. Castiel quickly finds a shirt with two chest pockets, not quite a perfect match to Indiana Jones' but apparently close enough as Castiel drapes it over his arm and heads towards the part of the racks that contain pants.

He aimlessly looks through the clothes, not exactly sure of what he’s looking for until something both bright and black strikes his eye.

“I feel like this is a sweater you should own,” Sam says, grinning widely as he holds up a chunky oversized black sweater with probably the most tacky design ever created embroidered onto it. It’s a cardigan with bright orange novelty pumpkin buttons, edged with a scene is of a graveyard—apparently haunted as there are little white outlines of ghosts floating about above the little gray tombstones and the thin pointed fence. “You’d look cute in it!”

Castiel’s eyes widen at the sight of the sweater, brows rising slightly as the corners of his lips tug into a rather disgusted frown. “Sam, _no_. That’s horrendous.”

“Obviously not horrendous enough,” Sam says, putting the sweater back on the rack between a puke-green sweater and a hot pink sweatervest, “since someone had to initially buy it to donate it here, or even make it in the first place.”

“I suppose so.”

“Still,” Sam adds belatedly, “you’d look cute in it.”

The death glare his boyfriend shoots him over the racks is enough to shut him up about the sweater.

Castiel huffs out in defeat after continuing his brief search, causing Sam to look up from a pair of denim jeans that were actually in decent shape but still possibly a little too small for him. "I think this is all I'll find here."

After paying, they leave and Castiel drives them to the Goodwill west of campus, their hands folded together on the console between them, palms warm against each other. The radio plays quietly, some nineties station that gives Sam a bit of nostalgia. The music brings back memories, but so does the drive itself. Just like their drive to Eureka during winter break the year before.

"You seem happy today," Castiel observes, sparing a glance at Sam before returning his gaze to the road.

"Hm? Oh, yeah." Sam shrugs, not saying much else. He doesn’t share his thoughts, his sentimentality, even though he knows that Castiel would never make fun of him for it like Dean might. “It’s a nice day out,” he settles with saying.

“It is,” his boyfriend nods in agreement, looking around at the hundreds of shades of the changing leaves with golden sunlight filtering through that casts their colorful world in a warm light as the car follows the slight curve of the road.

The next Goodwill has just about the same amount of Halloween costumes, but definitely a different assortment in a different arrangement. This time, Castiel breezes past the Halloween costume racks and heads straight towards the men's section. Sam decides to stay back in the costume section, determined to at least get an idea of what he wants to be before leaving the store, even if he doesn’t find something that suits his needs and size.

Castiel leaves the second Goodwill with a fruitful bounty—a pair of dark sand khaki pants, which Sam could swear that Castiel already owned a pair just like that, and a brown leather belt with a steel buckle.

“Did you find anything?” he asks Sam in concern as they stand at the counter to pay.

Sam shakes his head, watching Castiel pass a ten dollar bill to the cheerful short sales clerk. “No, I didn’t.”

“Attention, shoppers,” a paid-to-be-chipper man’s voice comes crackling over the store’s loudspeaker just as they’re walking to the front entrance, toward the parking lot. “Remember that today, all green tagged items are fifty percent off! I repeat, all green tags are fifty percent off. Also, could a Mr. Sharpe come to the front of the store? Sharpe, David Sharpe. Thank you!”

The idea hits Sam halfway to the car.

_Oh._

Perfect.

“I have all of the items on my list, would you like to go to Savers and look around for things for you?” Castiel asks, shifting the car into reverse and backing out of the space. “I can help you look.”

“No, I’m all set.”

Castiel’s head whips around, blue eyes boring into the side of Sam’s face. “You are? I didn’t see you get anything.”

“Don’t need to,” Sam answers happily, his worries of the day wonderfully gone. How could he have not thought of it before? It’s so simple. “I have everything I need already at home.”

Humming, Castiel eyes him suspiciously from across the car, pulling onto El Camino and heading back towards campus. It’s a few minutes of peaceful driving until he opens his mouth to speak again. “What is it?”

“Hm?”

“What is your costume?”

“It’s a secret,” Sam replies, flashing him a sly smirk.

Castiel purses his lips and Sam can see the curiosity ebbing away at his boyfriend despite not asking any more questions for the rest of the day.

Saturday evening almost arrives too quickly as Sam’s scrambling to try to finish as much as he can of Monday morning’s essay before he has to get ready for the party. That assignment has been hanging over his head for the whole week and it’s completely on him that he waited for so long to get to work on it.

Thankfully his costume doesn’t take that much effort.

Already dressed, Sam walks the eight blocks to Castiel’s apartment, toting a bag of assorted fun-sized Hershey’s brand candy—already opened. He didn’t mean to open it before heading over to Cas’s place but the little Kit Kat bars were all too tempting as he worked on his essay that afternoon, devouring one after another as he typed words onto a page. 

There are people ambling about the university’s surrounding neighborhood, mostly other college students dressed to the nines in colorful costumes heading towards their respective parties. With the amount of people he’s seeing, there must be quite a few tonight. From a distance, Sam spots a fairy with sparkly green wings walking hand in hand with a Woody from Toy Story, and across from the library there must be at least six or seven sorority girls dressed as zombie princesses, ripped and bloodied dresses with tiaras included, laughing and giggling as they walk towards the fraternities on Cowell Lane.

The man at the front desk of Castiel’s apartment building doesn’t spare him a second glance when he breezes on through the lobby and up the stairs.

Two knocks later, his boyfriend answers the door half-dressed—and not the sexy kind of ‘half-dressed’.... okay, maybe it’s a _little_ sexy. 

Castiel is a vision straight from Sam’s dreams, the buttons of his white pocket shirt halfway undone exposing the smooth tan skin of his chest, the brown belt from the thrift store slung across it.

Yeah, it’s kinda hot. Sam won’t lie: Harrison Ford was pretty hot in the movies, but Castiel makes an even better Indiana Jones.

“Hey,” Sam says, stepping out of the hall and into the apartment as Castiel returns the greeting with a warm kiss, lips parting slightly as they connect.

“You didn’t shave today,” Sam mumbles observantly as they part, rubbing his jaw lightly with a few fingertips over where the long stubble on Cas’ jaw brushed against his.

“And you taste like chocolate,” he returns, eyes darting down to the bag of candy hanging from Sam’s fingers. “You started eating candy already? 

“Mmhm,” Sam hums a little sheepishly. Has he really eaten that many?

“You’ll overdose,” Castiel says with a smile, retreating back down the hall toward the living room.

“Never.”

After kicking off his shoes, Sam lets himself into the kitchen for a glass of water and to stash the candy on the back of the counter for later consumption, hopefully polishing off the rest of the bag later that night with Castiel. He helps himself to another piece while he waits and right as he turns away from the counter, his boyfriend returns in the doorway. This time, _fully_ dressed.

Sam nearly chokes on his mini Almond Joy.

Cas looks good—not that he ever doesn’t look good, even when he has an imprint on his cheek from falling asleep on his watch or when he is pissed off at something stupid that a classmate said or especially when he has crazy bedhead that spikes his hair in every direction.

But _damn,_ ‘Castiel Jones’ is one hell of a looker with his brown leather jacket, a pair of boots dangling from his hand, open shirt, and brown hat atop messy hair. However, what really makes Sam double take is the coiled whip that lies settled against Castiel’s hip, secured to his belt.

“Where’d you get the whip?”

Blushing, Castiel looks at his socked feet, unable to meet Sam’s gaze. “It’s a replica prop too.”

“Like your hat?”

“Like my hat,” he confirms with a nod, a smile returning to his lips as he looks back up from the floor. “Are you… are you ready to leave?”

“Yep,” Sam says, crumpling his candy wrapper and tossing it in the trash and putting the empty glass to the sink. When Castiel turns and heads towards the hallway, he quickly grabs a few more candies out of the bag on the counter.

While they’re putting their shoes on in front of the door, Sam keeps noticing that Cas is looking at him, blue eyes darting away every time that his own meets them. Sometimes his boyfriend is an absolute mystery, impossible to read, but right now he’s like an open book.

“What’s up?” Sam asks in concern.

Castiel looks at him like he was a deer caught in the headlights. The sheer expression on his face makes Sam’s fingers pause as they tie the laces of his black leather oxford shoes. But then he speaks really quietly. “Who are you supposed to be?”

Immediately, Sam frowns. He knows that his costume isn’t exactly the most straightforward thing, but he expected Castiel to have at least some idea of who he might be.

Clearing his throat, Sam stands up, straightening his posture into something almost regal. “I’m Bond, James Bond,” he introduces himself with his best impression of Britain’s best spy. “Couldn’t you tell?”

Castiel’s lips widen to a smile as he stands as well. “I thought you might be. Which Bond are you going for?”

“Ah…. um… your favorite one?”

“George Lazenby?”

“Really?” Sam asks, intrigued by his strange but rather unsurprising answer. “I would have pegged you for a Sean Connery kind of guy.”

“Completely overrated,” is Castiel’s flat reply, unlatching the door and stepping into the hall.

They hold hands on their walk to Balthazar’s house, skirting the edge of campus to avoid walking through the buildings with the rest of the students. They still see a fair amount of other people outside, mostly people of their age in various states of dress just like Sam saw on his way over to the apartment building in the first place.

Sam eats at least two more fun-sized Kit Kat bars on the way, making sure to offer Castiel a piece of each, only to be rejected. Not that he particularly minds Castiel’s lack of a sweet tooth—it means more candy for him.

Balthazar’s house is already brimming with life as they approach, costumed students hanging out in little circles on the lawn and porch. As they walk up the short cement path to the front door, Castiel’s steps slow and Sam can already feel the regret that is most likely building within him.

He gives Cas’ hand a squeeze for reassurance, silently telling him that they’re both there, both dressed up, both in the same socially awkward situation.

As a junior, Sam finally feels like he’s not alone and swimming in an ocean of loneliness. He can barely go five steps in the house without bumping into someone familiar—Kathy from Political Philosophy from the year before, Mark who works in the English department’s front desk, even his old roommate Brady waves at him from where he leans on a wall, talking to a girl dressed in a 50s pink poodle skirt. Castiel stays close to him, hands still wrapped together, as Sam stops a few times to say hello.

The kitchen is busier than he remembers but looks about the same, oddly reminiscent of the party from the year, just with more fake cotton cobwebs and dozens of plastic spiders scattered everywhere. There’s bowls of candy across the counter, various types of the standard types of Halloween candy and even some that Sam has never heard before—perhaps they’re British? The people in the room are sprinkled around the island, feasting on the food and indulging their thirst for sweets and booze.

Of course, there’s tons of new faces in the room, none of which that Sam recognizes from class or from around campus. That’s the nature of going to a large school, plus the fact that this is Balthazar’s house party, not Gabriel’s.

Castiel helps himself to a plastic cup of sherbet punch and heads towards the large empty table in the corner, Sam right at his heels after grabbing a few packets of Skittles from one of the bowls on the counter.

The moment they sit down, Sam empties his pockets of his bounty and piles it onto the table, spreading out the candies in an appealing array. After offering some to his boyfriend, who refuses, Sam helps himself to his stash of sweets.

“You’re pretty happy for being at a party,” Sam comments after a few quiet moments, words slightly muffled as his mouth is full of Skittles.

“I’m just thinking,” Castiel begins, expression rather dreamy given the situation. “Or rather I’m reminiscing.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, wrestling with the red wrapper as he opens another Kit Kat bar. Maybe his fifteenth for the day, though he may be lowballing that estimate.

“It’s a lot like how we first met.”

The statement hits Sam the moment it leaves Cas’ mouth, jolting him out of his candy-induced bliss. He looks up from his half-eaten candy bar to see Castiel sitting across from him, headset in his hand, braced up on his elbow. Now that he mentioned it, it’s almost an exact scene from the year before except that Castiel isn’t reading and he’s wearing a ridiculous hat and a shirt that is unbuttoned halfway down to his bellybutton.

Sam smiles, setting his candy down momentarily atop all the others before reaching his hand out across the table. “Hey, I’m Sam Winchester.”

Castiel looks down at the offered hand, seemingly considering it before taking it in his own, shaking it. “Castiel.”

“Nice to meet you, Cas-tee-yel,” Sam says with a flirtatious grin, winking at him. “You’re really cute.”

“I don’t particularly remember you saying that the first night.”

“Oh, I didn’t? I should have.”

The light blush across Castiel’s cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed and it makes Sam’s grin widen even more to see it.

A flurry of movement on the other side of the room captures their attention and interrupts their embarrassingly adorable interaction, their strangely enjoyable stranger roleplay.

The house’s new occupant, the party’s host, just strolled into the room and Sam immediately spots the blond man on the other end of the kitchen, only fully coming into view because a few people have wandered into the living room and let the room breathe a little.

At first glance, Balthazar doesn’t look like he’s dressed up at all. Wearing his usual garb of a dark blazer, an almost embarrassingly deep black v-neck shirt, and a pair of black jeans, Balthazar is sitting perched upon the counter and apparently charming two ladies dressed as matching sexy devils, both giggling at something the man had said. Did he really not wear a costume to his own Halloween party?

Castiel leans in close, speaking quietly across the table. “We should say hello, so that Balthazar cannot claim that we didn’t come.”

It turns out that they don’t need to do anything because Cas’ cousin notices them sitting at the table in the corner of the somewhat crowded kitchen.

As Balthazar approaches them from across the room, weaving through people on the way, Sam finally realizes that the man is _actually_ wearing a costume. Or at least, he’s sort of wearing a costume. There’s a tiny gold halo hovering above his head suspended on a headband and small white feathered wings emerging from his back, held on by small black straps across his shoulders.

He’s an angel… Of course he is.

Balthazar smiles, eying his cousin up and down as he comes to stand before them. “ _Raiders of the Lost Ark_? Excellent choice, Cassie, excellent choice. Can’t say the same for your boytoy, though.”

“I’m—”

“A guy in a suit,” Balthazar finishes for him, voice layered with snark.

Sam’s eyes narrow. “I’m James Bond.”

“Oh, _are_ you? I couldn’t tell. You didn’t even introduce yourself properly. It’s ‘Bond, James Bond,’ you twat,” Balthazar corrects him with condescension that makes Sam’s hands curl into fists. “Cassie, your boyfriend is just so uncultured.”

Castiel frowns, quickly turning to Sam. “He doesn’t mean that.”

“Oh, but I do.”

“Cassie!” comes a booming voice from behind them, tearing their attention away from Castiel’s cousin and causing Sam to spin on his heels only to see a honey-blonde blur whiz past him, breaking up their little huddled group.

It’s Gabriel, _recently-graduated-been-gone-since-June_ Gabriel.

By the looks of it, Balthazar knew about this but Castiel had absolutely no idea that his brother would be attending the party. He looks both absolutely lost and shocked as he’s gathered up into Gabriel’s arm in a back-breaking hug, sweeping him off the ground a few inches.

“Gabriel?” Castiel finally manages to sputter out as the man sets him back down on the floor. “W-what are you doing here?”

The short man shrugs comically, wiggling his fake moustache. “Oh, you know, I just happened to be in the neighborhood…”

“The last time you texted, you were in Seattle,” Castiel says, tilting his head in puzzlement.

“And it was way too rainy and gross!” Gabriel answers, laughing to himself. “So when Balthazar told me you agreed to come to his Halloween party, I just had to hightail it down here stat.”

“But why?”

“It took me forever to convince you to come to one of my parties and you come to the first one that Balthazar invites you to? Why, Cassie, I’m offended.”

“You’re just jealous that he likes me better,” their cousin replies pointedly.

“In your dreams, angelboy.”

Balthazar frowns, snapping. “And what are you, a delivery man?”

“Pornstar actor,” Gabriel answers like it was the most obvious thing in the world, gesturing to his outfit of an unbuttoned white shirt and red vest. “Duh.”

It’s real quiet but Sam definitely hears Balthazar mutter under his breath. “Isn’t that your real job?”

Judging by the puzzled look on Cas’ face, he heard it too.

“Anyways… Little bro, guess what time it is?” Gabriel exclaims, a dangerous grin on his face that makes Sam actually worry about what is about to come out of his mouth. “Time for a little family bonding! Shots!”

Castiel isn’t even able to get an answer out—and Sam’s pretty sure that he would have said no—because Gabriel grabs his wrist like a hostage and drags him across the kitchen to where all of the booze bottles are collected on the far counter. Balthazar excitedly trails after them saying something along the lines of ‘don’t forget me,’ leaving Sam in the dust.

He watches carefully until Castiel takes his first shot, looking for a signal asking for rescue. But when it doesn’t come—when Cas grits his teeth at the sharp burning taste before smiling when his two family members celebrate the fact that he’s actually drinking—Sam decides to wander back through the house, possibly in search for a friend to talk to.

He passes by Brady again, who interrupts his conversation with poodle skirt girl for a moment to talk to him.

“You supposed to be a Fed or something?” his old roommate asks, looking Sam up and down.

“What? No, I’m James Bond.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Brady says, a little more loud as to be heard over the dull buzz of the chattering party attendants. “How’s the apartment been treating ya?”

“Pretty good,” Sam replies, not having much else to say so he leaves Brady to his flirting and continues to circle through the first floor of the house. It’s actually a lot tougher to maneuver through the throngs of people because of all the costumes, wings, and other costume pieces that stick out and obstruct a clear walking path, but he tries his best not to bump into anyone and spill their drinks.

A few more of his classmates nod their heads in greeting as he passes, but it’s not until he feels a tap on his shoulder in the hallway between the garage and the kitchen that Sam finds an overtly friendly face.

“Sam,” Rebecca greets him, her outfit assaulting his eyes. She’s wearing a ridiculous amount of hot pink, from her matching business suit and hat to her purse with a little stuffed dog inside. It’s a strange sight to see as Sam recalls Rebecca as more of a subtle dresser, more neutral colors and casual clothes.

“Hey, Becky,” Sam returns warmly, eyes taking it the sheer amount of color before him. “You’re so… bright.”

“Yeah, I’m Elle Woods. You know, from Legally Blonde.”

It takes a moment for Sam to get the reference—he hasn’t seen that movie in years—but when it dawns on him, Becky nods her head furiously.

“You know, she’s a pretty badass lawyer, I’m gonna be one too in like five years. Great, huh?”

“That’s pretty clever,” Sam admits.

“So…. what are you?” She asks after a moment of looking him up and down. “Oh wait! Don’t tell me, I got this. Men In Black? No? Um… The President!”

Sam sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Why does no one guess right? Maybe the suit was a bad idea after all.“No, I’m James Bond.”

“Oh! I should have guessed, I’m sorry.” she answers apologetically.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. No one can seem to guess…” Sam says, trailing off. “So what are you doing here?”

“Same reason you are. To get away from papers and books and the stuffy air of the library. We’re juniors and this is the toughest year of undergrad, but it’s nice to get away sometimes.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“So you here alone or…?” she asks, a poorly disguised baited question. Hopefully she can do a better job of asking such leading questions in court one day.

“No, I’m here with Cas.”

The answer evokes a massive grin from his friend, who gives him a playful shove on the arm. “I’m glad to hear that! So where is he?”

“Oh, uh, in the kitchen with his brother and cousin.”

They both simultaneously lean forwards in order to try to get a glimpse of the happenings within the kitchen. Through the gap between a Disney princess and a guy in a gorilla suit, Sam can see Balthazar pour out another round of shots as Gabriel hangs on Castiel’s shoulder, laughing as he says something quietly into his ear.

“Looks like he’s having a good time,” Rebecca comments, turning back to Sam. “That’s a big improvement on last year. He was reading a book!”

“Yeah, I definitely remember that,” Sam says fondly. The night he met Cas for the first time… 

“Oh? Oh, it looks like you might need to go get him,” she says, bringing Sam out of his reverie.

He spins around, looking back into the kitchen. Castiel has finished yet another shot and isn’t looking too sure anymore. Damn his brother and cousin.

“I guess you’re right,” Sam admits, sighing. “Happy Halloween, Becky.”

“Happy Halloween, Sam,” she returns as he walks toward the kitchen. “And don’t be a stranger this quarter!”

Gabriel is doing quite a spectacular fist pump as Sam approaches, shaking an unsteady Castiel and handing him another shot. Sam speeds up his steps towards them and snatches it out of Castiel’s grip, drinking the burning liquid down and setting the empty shot glass on the counter out of their reach.

“I think it’s time to slow down,” Sam says after clearing his throat, trying to shake off the tingling feeling that washes over him from the… was that rum? The rum.

“Oh-oh-oh! Cassie’s boyfriend is cuttin’ him off!” Gabriel crows, his own words slurred a little. “You gonna take that sitting down, Cas? Or, uh, standing up?”

Sam ignores them, offering out his arm for Castiel to grab onto. He’s never seen what his boyfriend looks or acts like when drunk before, but he would have to be blind to think that this Castiel, this man who takes his arm, isn’t at least decently drunk.

“Want to go?”

Castiel nods.

“Sam’s just a killjoy,” Balthazar calls out after them, teasing. “Feel free to come back when you realize that yourself, dearie!”

The walk back to Castiel’s apartment takes a lot more time than the initial walk to Balthazar’s house. Perhaps it’s because Castiel is a little inebriated and moving at a slower pace than usual. Perhaps it’s because they had a pretty decent evening and are just strolling around campus. Either way, Sam is content with the events of the night.

“Did you have fun?” Sam asks him, keeping a firm grasp on Castiel as they cross the street.

“Hm? Oh, yes. Though I was not expecting to see Gabriel.”

“Yeah, that was a surprise.”

“It was nice to see him,” Castiel says, pausing before letting out a sigh. “I missed him.”

“I’m sure you did, Cas.”

A few minutes of walking pass, under the starless midnight sky that glows from the light pollution from the nearby city. Sam enjoys the silence with the occasional rumble of a car going by or the music of another party happening in the distance or the laughter of groups of people passing them on the sidewalk.

Sam takes them up the elevator and leads them into the apartment, shutting and locking the door securely behind them. Neither of them bother to take of their shoes as Castiel is more occupied with finding and flopping face-down onto the couch and Sam quickly follows.

When he plops down beside Castiel, the couch cushions jostle and his boyfriend bounces, causing him to roll over to make room for him. 

When Sam pulls him into his arms and presses a kiss to Castiel’s cheek, it seems to energize his boyfriend. Castiel jolts up, Sam following, and looks hungrily into his eyes as he swings a leg over Sam’s, straddling his lap. He hooks his arms over Sam’s shoulders, pressing a short chaste kiss to Sam’s nose before diving forwards, kissing him deeply.

“You taste like tequila.”

“And you still taste like chocolate,” Castiel replies, pulling Sam in by the bow tie for another hungry kiss, deep like he’s trying to lick the sugar from his tongue. “You candyholic.”

“Candyholic?” Sam murmurs, pressing lingering kisses across Cas’ blush-warmed cheeks. “I better go to C.A. Candyholics Anonymous.”

“Yes, you better,” his boyfriend agrees. “You’re quite possibly the worst James Bond I’ve ever seen.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam says, pulling away but holding Castiel’s face completely still between his hands. “Don’t all women who sleep with James Bond die?”

Castiel pauses, sitting back on Sam’s lap and considering Sam’s argument before shaking his head, casting Sam’s hands aside as he leans in again. “Well it’s a good thing I’m neither a woman nor sleeping with you.”

“Fair point,” Sam says between more kisses, pulling Castiel in closer and closer until their chests a pressed together, both of them starving for more contact. Their lips are insistent, moving constantly as they almost try to taste each other again. Tequila and chocolate was never a flavor combination that Sam would have expected to taste good.

“But wait,” Sam begins again, interrupting them again with a hand pressed to Cas’ chest. “If you’re Indiana Jones, shouldn’t we be running from a giant boulder or something?”

Castiel sighs in frustration, pursing his lips as he sits back again. “You’re overthinking this.”

“Did I get the reference right?”

“Yes, that scene was in _Raiders of the Lost Ark._ ”

Sam gives a weak fist pump. “Nailed it.”

“Now _you’re_ the dork,” Castiel says with a laugh, nuzzling at Sam’s neck, breath scorching hot against the skin there that makes him shiver beneath his touch. “And without a doubt the worst James Bond I’ve ever seen.”

“He was never the best hero to begin with,” Sam hums, leaning forwards to capture his boyfriend’s lips, hands sliding up from Castiel’s waist to across his shoulders and threading themselves through his hair—something he knows that his boyfriend really loves.

It sparks a reaction from Cas, the man gasping against his collarbone and the sound of him alone causes Sam to pop a boner right then and there, with his asexual boyfriend in his lap. Thankfully Castiel doesn’t seem to mind, or perhaps he’s too distracted to even notice. Sam tries to will it away quickly, but he’s not successful in being expedient.

It’s like another scene out of Sam’s secret fantasies—hell, this whole night has been chock full of those—Castiel and him, doing some sort of roleplaying. It’s something he’d never admit to anyone, especially to Cas, but it’s glorious. Right now he’s got a tipsy world famous explorer on his lap and he’s a world famous super spy—well, apparently the world’s worst famous super spy. 

It’s not at all like what he’s pictured previously, but he can work with that.

Castiel kisses Sam fervently, sucking at Sam’s lower lips and nipping him all across his jaw and neck, leaving him feel tingly all over from the river of kisses and all the attention that Cas is lavishing on him.

It’s been awhile since they’ve had a decent amount of making out, with midterms and all that just finishing the week before and their unfortunately conflicting class schedules. It’s times like these that remind Sam about just how much he loves the feeling of Castiel’s lips against his and the taste of his mouth. It’s its own form of intoxication, clouding Sam’s head with a surge of feelings for his boyfriend.

“’M tired,” Castiel murmurs as he pulls away, laying his head atop Sam’s shoulder.

“And pretty drunk, I’d say,” Sam replies with a chuckle, patting him a few times on his back. “Time for you to go to sleep…?”

Nodding wordlessly, Castiel pulls away from Sam, eyelids drooping closed already. He leans in for one last kiss, a goodnight kiss, but misses Sam’s lips completely and lands it somewhere on the left side of his chin which elicits a laugh from the both of them.

Once Castiel disappears from behind the door of his bedroom, Sam convinces himself that he’d be better off walking home so he can change out of his suit and into some pajamas but he can’t seem to get himself to move from his comfortable spot on the couch.

 _‘Maybe just a few pieces for energy, then I’ll go,’_ Sam thinks to himself, reaching out to grab a packet of Starbursts off of the coffee table. One turns into two, then four, then almost ten before the sugar coma sets in.

He falls asleep, dreaming of candy forests and a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed explorer with a hat and a whip.

Sam wakes up on Castiel’s couch the next morning, completely surrounded by little piles of empty candy wrappers and feeling exhausted and sore from the uncomfortable sleeping position he most likely laid in for the past eight hours. It takes him a few minutes to gather up the energy to get himself off the cushions of the green suede couch, but once he does, he wanders into the bathroom through the hallway door and brushes his teeth with his spare toothbrush stowed behind the mirror, mouth feeling gritty from the sheer amount of sugar and candy he had the night before, before heading to the kitchen.

Moving as quietly as he can about the kitchen, he fills up a glass of tepid water and pours two aspirin pills into his palm out of the bottle near the sink. Sam knows that Cas has a pretty big tolerance to alcohol, but Balthazar and Gabriel put him through the ringer the night before, handing him shot after shot of god knows what kind of liquor. He’d bet on his scholarship that his boyfriend is going to be hellishly hungover.

Castiel doesn’t stir whatsoever when Sam opens his bedroom door, carefully stepping over the discarded pieces of his halloween costume strewn all over the floor and making his way toward the bedside. He stands there, looming over where his boyfriend sleeps deeply, considering for a moment waking him up or crawling over him to sleep in his bed.

He ultimately decides against both of those ideas, his heart not strong enough to cruelly wake up Castiel after a night of hard liquor drinking and exhausting socialization. Instead, Sam sets the glass of water on the nightstand and sets the two painkillers beside it like an offering. Hopefully Cas will notice them when he wakes up.

Sam backs out of the room silently, closing the door with a quiet click behind him and wandering back to the couch to catch some more rest before they are forced to start the day.

An hour later, long enough to give Sam a decent enough mid-morning nap, Castiel emerges still bleary eyed from his bedroom with the empty water glass in his hand, wearing a pair of his loose sweatpants and a black sweater—which makes Sam immediately do a double take.

“I-is that?” Sam asks stuttering as his eyes widen, taking in the sight of his boyfriend in the most ridiculous sweater. “ _No way._ ”

It’s the ugly Halloween sweater from Goodwill that Sam joked about when they were thrifting for costume pieces on Friday, the one with the graveyard and the giant plastic pumpkin buttons up the front. He could swear that Castiel only left that store with a pair of pants and a leather belt with no sweater in sight, so that means—

“I went back and bought it,” Castiel says with a small smile, light blush peaking on his cheekbones. “Yesterday morning.”

“It suits you,” Sam says, trying to will away the quiver of his lips to keep himself from laughing.

“No, it doesn’t,” his boyfriend quips, fingers hooking under the hem and pulling it away from his waist to glare down at the embroidered graveyard with a frown. “I just thought you’d find it amusing.”

“It’s hilarious, Cas, but somehow you make it look good,” Sam reassures him, raising a hand and curling a finger to beckon him to join him on the couch for some much desired cuddling and hopefully a good amount of time of making out before they try to figure out breakfast… or lunch, whatever time it is. “Now get over here, you wooly Hallmark card.”

Castiel mumbles something about the sweater being itchy as he crosses the living room, but it seems that neither of them mind.

  
  
art by chromehearts

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Tumblr @ GhostGarrison  
> Keep a look out for the continuation of this verse!


End file.
